Royai Week 2013
by Lin-ZB
Summary: 7 ficlets (or excerpts from longer pieces) centered around Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang. All prompts come from royaiweek on tumblr.
1. Firsts

The first time he saw her, his mind was full of stories about the Aerugo war. She stood in an open window on the second floor, glaring down at him. He thought she looked like a sniper.

The first time she smiled at him, it was tight and false. She didn't want his help; she could go buy her father's materials on her own, thank you just the same. But he insisted, because he'd seen the way she looked at him when he went to study with her father, and he wanted to make it up to her.

The first time she held him at gunpoint, he was trying to find her in the woods, but had gotten hopelessly lost and was too panicked to think of calling for her. Instead, he stumbled noisily through a bush and into the barrel of her hunting rifle. She nearly screamed at him, but the terror and subsequent relief on his face moved her to pity. She jerked her thumb at the sack in his hand, which had accumulated a number of twigs on his journey, and looked at him questioningly.  
"I brought you lunch!" he said.  
And that was the first time she really smiled at him.

The first time they said goodbye, he was all but bursting with his vision of a bright future, and she could not help but wish him the best, even if her father disapproved. They shook hands politely. He wanted to pull her into a hug, or kiss her cheek, or something less formal, because she had grown on him over the years. But he released her hand, saluted, and walked away from the house.


	2. Undercover

"Miss Elizabeth, another man called for you today."

"Oh? Who was is this time?"

"Someone I haven't seen before, actually. Dark hair, tall, looked like a soldier type, but he wasn't wearing a uniform."

Elizabeth hummed. "Did he leave me anything?"

"Such a vain girl you are! But yes, he did. Just a letter."

"Oh, hand it over then!"

The matron held the letter away from Elizabeth's reaching hands.

"Please?" Elizabeth sighed.

The matron smiled and relinquished the letter. Elizabeth snatched it eagerly and was about to open it, but paused to admire the script addressing the envelope to her.

"He must be quite the gentlemen," the matron said kindly.

A knowing smile spread across Elizabeth's face, and her eyes brightened as she opened the letter.

"Oh, he is."

* * *

Miss Waverly's Home for Delicate Women boasted spacious apartments, well-manicured gardens, and the most accommodating care for wealthy ladies who were unsuited for life with normal society. Women who were mostly stable were allowed regular visitors, and even suitors should anyone be interested. Elizabeth Grumman was one of the most highly sought after bachelorettes, despite having been in the home for less than a month. Miss Waverly was quite impressed at the array of men who had come to visit her; this many suitors despite her mental condition certainly meant a sizable fortune.

When Elizabeth's soldier without a uniform came to call again, half the service staff knew about it within the quarter hour. He was a dashing thing, a little too experienced to be called young – at least compared to the nearly adolescent boys who came for some other ladies – but he was certainly not old. His manner charmed all the serving girls and most of the maids; the patients had mixed views on his womanizing ways, considering he was supposed to be courting only one.

None of this gossip seemed to bother Elizabeth, if, indeed, she heard it at all. She prattled with the matron and the women sent to dress her like the happiest lovestruck child, and her mood was better than it had been since she arrived.

"Maybe she was thrown into a fit of depression when a fella rejected her," one of the maids whispered. "She ain't really been a problem since she been here; musta been a guy back home who did her in."

"Do ya think this is the same guy? Or someone else?"

"Well how should I know?"

They silenced themselves as Elizabeth emerged from her room, her blonde hair pinned into a bouquet of ringlets. She had chosen a smartly tailored pinstripe dress, but dispensed with the customary hat.

"Your hair looks lovely, Miss Elizabeth," one of the girls said.

"Oh, thank you! I couldn't bear to wear a hat over it today," Elizabeth replied, favoring the girls with a dazzling smile. She fairly swept down the hallway, despite the dress's narrow skirt.

"I think it's the guy who dumped her, back to seek her favor."

"Definitely."

Elizabeth's caller was standing by an old grandfather clock when she entered the parlor.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said politely, offering a hint of a curtsey as he turned.

"And good afternoon to you, Elizabeth," he replied, crossing the room to greet her. "You're looking as lovely as ever."

"You're too kind," she murmured, casting her eyes down demurely. She could not, however, suppress a quirk of her lips and one slightly raised eyebrow.

"How have you been?"

"Let's not talk in here," Elizabeth suggested. She looked back at the door, where several inquisitive staff members hurriedly resumed their duties. "It's too lovely a day to waste."

As soon as the pair crossed into a secluded hedge maze, Elizabeth dropped her well-bred demeanor.

"You'd better tell me you've got enough information out of this place Colonel," she said in a dark undertone. "I can't do this for much longer."

"But the look suits you so well, Lieutenant," he teased.

"Ha ha." She shot him a warning look.

"Although I must say your temper is rather better when you're in uniform."

Riza Hawkeye rolled her eyes and tried not to trip on her skirt as she walked.

* * *

The assignment was fairly straightforward, and not even of grave importance. Major Armstrong had tipped Roy off to the possibility that Miss Waverly's boarding home was more than it seemed. The idea was that Riza would go undercover as a patient and discover the illegitimate side of the place, but in her month there she hadn't found anything more dangerous than a thorn bush.

Later they would discover that it was a smuggling point for some general's liquor; hardly contraband, but distinctly contrary to the wishes of his wife. Riza rolled her eyes when she heard the news. Mercifully, Roy had decided to drop the investigation after she hadn't unearthed anything troubling, so she hadn't wasted too much time (nor lost her mind).

Roy did manage to keep the picture someone had taken of Riza in her disguise, though.


	3. Need a Hand?

On a fine spring afternoon, Riza Hawkeye was struggling with an excessively tall stack of papers. She had both arms holding the bottom of the pile, and had resorted to using her chin to keep the top in place. Given the excessive height of the stack, this action made it difficult for her to see where she was walking. This vision impairment, plus the nature of office buildings on fine spring afternoons to empty in a horde once the lunch break was called, made Riza anxious to get to the paper's destination before noon.

Unfortunately, she did not.

She did, however, manage to keep the stack from toppling as the lunch crowd surged into the hallway. This involved several near misses, a complete three-sixty turn, and ended in a relieved sigh against a wall. Once the danger was passed, Riza turned to resume her journey, but she was met with a sudden obstacle. The obstacle was not immediately clear to her; she only discovered that it existed by running into it. It must have been human, though, since as she stumbled back she felt hands trying to catch her. The hands ultimately failed, and she toppled to the ground, unbalanced by the stack of papers – which also toppled.

"Colonel!" she all but yelled when she saw who her obstacle was.

"Gah, I'm sorry Lieutenant. I should have been paying more attention. Need a hand?" Roy gestured to the scattered papers.

"Yes, that would be appreciated," Riza said dryly. As Roy crouched to help her, she stood and began to walk away.

"Lieutenant, what's going on?"

"Well sir, you're giving me a hand by picking up these papers. Since it's all paperwork that you've put off, I figure making you do this yourself will teach you to get your work done in a timely manner."

Roy gaped at her retreating figure.

"But where are you going now?" he managed to ask.

"I'm going to lunch."

* * *

Unfortunately, Riza's lesson did not stick, and she found herself with another excessively tall stack of papers the next week.


	4. Heaven and Hell

**Setting:** Post-canon - Riza and Roy are in Ishval, helping rebuild.

* * *

_She was prepared to follow him into hell. She had never considered what it would take to follow him into heaven._

Hell was easy. She had been to hell and back before; several times before, in fact. Hell was seventeen years old, flat on her stomach with her father working on her back for hours. Hell was seeing what he had created, what destruction he - she had enabled. Hell was doing some of it herself. Hell was watching Roy, her Roy, helpless and in pain, suffering for love of her.

Hell was easy. She knew how to survive in hell.

Heaven was terrifying. She didn't deserve heaven; she didn't deserve the forgiveness of the people she'd hurt. At first it was what she had expected. The Ishvalans regarded her suspiciously, hated her uniform, and did not trust a word she said. But as she spent more time among them, and as they realized she was honest about trying to help them, they began to welcome her.

She thought she had accepted her war crimes as a necessary evil, but as the Ishvalans accepted her, she wanted to scream. _Don't you know who I am? Don't you know what I did? How can you let me live among you? How can you let your children near me?_

It was not until she was helping clear out a ruined tower that she broke down. She didn't know if the window was actually one she had shot out of, but it looked similar enough. Her heart all but stopped, and she fled the building, or tried to. Someone caught her on the stairs, noticed her eyes, and forced her to sit down.

"Captain Hawkeye, are you well?"

"Y-yes, I'm fine, please-"

"You're not."

Riza shook her head.

"What's wrong?"

"The room upstairs," she managed to say. "It's too- I feel like I'm, I'm shooting again, back in the war-"

The man who had caught her was a doctor's assistant, and he nodded knowingly. "I understand. Come with me, then. Master Vaya can help you."

She was too shaken to protest, so she followed.

* * *

Master Vaya was an elderly Ishvalan woman who had escaped the war and traveled through the Amestrian slums to help refugees. She looked up with sharp eyes when Riza entered the newly constructed hospital, but after a few words from her assistant nodded and beckoned her over.

"My dear, what exactly happened to you?" she asked, voice rough with age and desert winds.

"Nothing, really," Riza protested. "I was helping clean out an old building, and I- I panicked, I guess."

"You thought you were back in the war." It was not a question.

"Yes," Riza admitted. She had to bow her head to force the words out.

"Don't be ashamed. There are many who have felt the same way."

"Really?" Riza asked dully, daring a glance from beneath her hair.

Vaya sighed. "We call it war panic. After something so violent, it's hard for your mind to accept that you're out of danger. And if you go back to where you were fighting, it very often gets worse."

"So what do I do?" Riza asked.

"You talk," Vaya said.

"Talk?"

"Talk to me, or to someone you can trust. You have to talk about what happened to you."

Riza must have looked like she wanted to argue, because Vaya held up her hand.

"I know. I've talked to enough of the military to know that the government didn't let you do that. They called you war heroes and praised you for your good work, and then told you to get on with your life, right?"

Riza nodded.

"Well, that might have worked for a while, but now you have to deal with what happened," Vaya said.

"That doesn't sound like much fun," Riza said, failing to sound as composed as she had hoped.

"It's not," Vaya said, closing her wrinkled hands around Riza's, "but it's worth it."

And so Riza began to talk. It was not much fun at all, but Vaya had been dealing with what Riza was facing since the war had ended, almost ten years ago. Riza discovered a nearly crippling guilt, which she had ignored by throwing herself into work. It had come back with a vengeance when she arrived at the former battlefield. It was a lot harder to believe she was making up for her actions once she could see their full consequences. But that was exactly the point of coming to Ishval; to truly understand the atrocities of the war, and to pave the way for recovery and reconciliation, so that nothing like the massacre would happen again.

"There is something else," Riza said in an undertone one afternoon.

"What was that?" Vaya asked, turning her head to better catch Riza's words.

She thought about lying, almost brushed off the issue like a minor thing. But she knew it would come back; no matter how much she tried to avoid it, it would come back and Vaya would find out.

"There's something else," Riza said. "It's about one of the state alchemists that came in at the end." She stopped, hoping, somehow, that Vaya would understand just from that and not make her go on. Vaya only waited patiently for her to continue. "He, his alchemy was-is based on my father's research."

"Your father was an alchemist?" Vaya asked mildly.

"He was, but not for the state. He hated everything to do with the military," Riza said with a tiny, rueful laugh. "He died a long time ago. Anyway, this state alchemist studied with my father – well, back then he wasn't a state alchemist – but it was my father's research that helped him pass the exam. And the technique he made from my father's work was what he used-" she swallowed hard – "what he used to kill."

"And you feel responsible for that?" Vaya asked.

Riza nodded, unable to speak.

"I can understand why you feel that way, but that alchemy was between your father and the other alchemist. There was nothing you could have done-"

"No," Riza interrupted harshly. She stared at her hands, clenched into a painful ball in her lap. "My father died before he finished teaching the state alchemist everything he knew. He gave-" her hands tightened "- his research to me, so that I could protect it. He didn't want it to be abused, but I gave it to _him_ and then he used it to kill all those people-" Her voice broke. She pressed her hands against her forehead, closed her eyes, and gritted her teeth.

Vaya said nothing. They sat in a long silence while Riza fought desperately against tears. Vaya rose and went to the edge of the tent, where Riza could make out vague murmurs. When Vaya finished, she returned and placed a hand on Riza's shoulder.

"Would you like some tea?" she asked. "We're going to talk this through today. You take as much time as you need."

Riza, who had just managed to calm her shaky breath, shuddered and began crying in earnest.

* * *

As she spilled her guts to Vaya, Riza knew it was becoming increasingly obvious exactly whom she was talking about. It was also increasingly obvious that she loved him.

"It sounds to me," Vaya began cautiously, "that you've forgiven him for what he was ordered to do, but you haven't forgiven yourself."

"Of course," Riza said, her voice thick with residual tears. "What he did was terrible, but he swore to follow orders when he joined the military. I swore the same oath. But I gave him the power to kill so much more than anyone else. If I hadn't-"

"Child, do not speak in 'if's,'" Vaya scolded. "You did not know; you could not have known."

"But still-"

"But nothing. No one believes a man when he speaks of protecting his country unless he means it. Your alchemist had noble intentions, and you wanted to help. Neither of you knew what the military leaders were planning," Vaya said. Her voice was brusque and insistent; Riza was taken aback.

"How can you not hold me accountable?" she asked.

"It's not that I don't," Vaya said. Riza saw the steel in her eyes and it made her heart quail. "But Captain Hawkeye, if I believed that you _wanted_ to come to my homeland and kill my people, I would have killed you a long time ago. The fact that you do not absolve yourself of what you did, even under orders, even of people that you did not directly kill, is enough for me." Vaya paused and then grimaced. "And I'm too old to bear grudges against people who are trying to help."

After that day, Riza began to hope for herself. She still had demons to face, demons beyond Ishval – chasing an alchemist killer, finding herself useless in combat against near immortals, battling a madman for the fate of her country. There had been so much in such a short period of time that she had not noticed the stress she was living under until it was gone. Even with all that still ahead, she felt that some critical threshold had been crossed, some key victory scored against her own mind.

She found she was able to enjoy simple activities more than she had for years. She could take an honest pleasure in collapsing into her bed at night, and she woke up feeling like she had really slept – the nightmares were fading. Not always, and not all of them, but enough that she felt different.

"You're looking well today, Captain."

"Thank you sir," Riza said. "I'm feeling well."

The smile on her face was so earnest, she was surprised at herself. She'd never been so cheerful in uniform. Roy noticed; he raised an eyebrow.

"Is there some handsome young officer you've got your eye on?" he asked, only half-joking.

"There is sir," Riza said, grinning. "But he's not that young. Or handsome."

"Hey!"

This was the long road to heaven; less glamorous by far than the fantastic hells she had been through, but no less difficult and painful to travel. Riza Hawkeye was not afraid to walk it. Not anymore.

* * *

**Author's Note: **THIS WAS A REALLY HARD PROMPT FOR ME UGH I HOPE Y'ALL LIKE THIS


	5. No Firearms in the Bedroom

"I don't wanna," Rose wailed.

"Shut up!" Christine hissed. "They'll hear you!"

"Your parents are gonna kill me," Rose continued in a softer wail.

"No they won't!" Christine insisted.

"Yes they will!"

"Will not!"

"Will too!"

"Will not!"

And with that, Christine opened the door, forcing Rose to stifle her next protest.

"Now look, they're fast asleep," Christine said. "It'll be fine."

Rose stuffed her fist in her mouth and followed her friend into the bedroom. The girls stopped at the foot of the bed and eyed Christine's parents wearily.

"Aw, they're cuddling," Rose whispered, previous fear forgotten.

"They're very in love," Christine replied with a sage nod. "Now come on. I think they've hidden the presents under the bed…"

"Are you _sure_ Auntie Riza doesn't have a gun in here?" Rose squeaked, her eyes finding the bedside table.

Christine gave a muffled groan from beneath the bed. She wormed her way out and dragged Rose down to sit with her. "Look, I told you. There's no firearms in the bedroom, okay?"

"Okay…"

Christine resumed her treasure hunt, batting through the dust bunnies. She almost coughed once or twice, but managed to hold it in. Rose went over to the window, where a large wooden chest gleamed in the moonlight. It was a struggle for the eight-year-old to heave the massive lid upright, but when she did, she was thrilled with what she found.

"Chrissy!" she whisper-shouted. "I found them!"

Christine was far beneath the king-sized bed, and so it took her a few seconds to get out and see what Rose had discovered. Rose was climbing into the chest, and by the time Christine got there she was holding up a box wrapped in brightly colored tissue paper.

"This one's for you," Rose whispered. She handed it over, and went to pull out another one. As she bent down, her elbow bumped the chest's lid, which was only precariously balanced. It fell onto Rose's head with a heavy crack. Rose immediately began to wail and covered her aching head with her arms as Christine tried to prop the lid up again.

"Rosie, be quiet _please_," she begged. "You're gonna-"

"Who's there?" a woman yelled, and a light flickered on, illuminating the two girls. They froze and looked to the bed, where both Christine's parents were sitting upright. Rose, who had stopped crying in terror, began to sob again when she saw the gun in Mrs. Mustang's hands.

"Mom!" Christine cried, horrified. "Why do you have a gun?"

But her parents, once they realized what was going on, collapsed against each other with laughter. Christine, indignant, stalked over to the bed.

"I'm serious!"

"It's not loaded, sweetie," her mom said, catching her breath. "It's just, just to distract people."

"Oh," Christine said.

"Now you two better get back to bed," her father said kindly, closing the drawer on his nightstand. "You don't want to be sleepy for your party tomorrow."

"I guess not," Christine agreed sullenly.

"How about you go help Rosie?" he said. Rose was sitting in the chest, watching the whole scene with vague shock in her eyes.

"Come on," Christine said, stomping over to the chest. "I guess we have to wait."

Her parents watched in quiet amusement as Rose clambered out of the chest. She eyed them wearily as she walked past the bed, but stopped at the door and turned back.

"Sorry Uncle Roy and Auntie Riza," Rose said miserably.

"That's alright," Riza said. "Go back to bed. We'll see you in the morning."

Rose turned and fled.

"Should we tell Ed and Winry about this?" Riza asked as Roy turned off the light.

"Nah," he said. "She already apologized. And I think you gave her enough of a scare that she won't be doing anything like that again."

"That's true." Riza sighed and curled one arm protectively across Roy's chest as they settled back into sleep.

* * *

**Author's Note:** If you don't like the idea of the Mustangs and Rockbell-Elrics having joint birthday parties for their kids then I don't know what to tell you.

Also there is like a 100% chance that Rosie Elric's full name is Pinako Rose Rockbell-Elric but Mister Dominic was so scared of there being a second Pinako Rockbell that Winry lied when he asked her what her daughter's name was.


	6. Scars

"Riza…"

"Major Mustang, this is not your decision." Her voice was flat and cold; some would say unfeeling. The tremors along her bare back spoke a different story, of guilt and horror that had not subsided since her first desperate request.

"Very well, Sergeant."

She straightened up, set her shoulders back, and fixed her eyes firmly on a nail in the wall. She would take this like a soldier.

She was strong, but the first burst of flame incinerated a chunk beneath her right shoulder with a pain sharper than any knife. Roy jumped at her strangled screech, tried to convince her that she could just hide the tattoo. She gritted her teeth.

"No," she growled. "This has to be done now."

Roy looked at the back of her head, trying to read the emotions on a face he couldn't see. He hung his head and grimaced.

The next flame was hotter and took out a large portion of her left shoulder before she couldn't withstand the agony any longer. She curled over her stomach, whimpering into her fists.

"Sergeant!"

"Go on," she gasped.

"No, that's enough," Roy insisted. "It's enough. It can't be read."

"You swear?"

"I swear."

Riza put her head in her hands, breathing deeply but painfully. Roy stripped off his gloves.

Months later, her scars were still red and tender, but they had healed enough to prove that the tattoo had indeed been scorched from her skin. Riza turned away from the mirror with a sigh. It was a waking nightmare tending to wounds on her own back, but she was nothing if not self-sufficient. Luckily, if one could say anything in the aftermath of Ishval was lucky, no one thought it was odd that she diligently avoided any physical contact on her back. Rebecca had once slapped her on the shoulder, and Riza had almost fainted from the pain before she informed her friend in the curtest way possible to never do that again. Rebecca had been instantly apologetic and understanding. They were all learning how many wounds weren't obvious.

Riza was not ashamed of her physical scars. They were her private symbol of freedom and the first, hopeful steps to redemption. That was what she thought on her good days, anyway.

But there were bad days; there were bad, bad days. She had scars on the inside too, scars that no one could see, but that ached in the night just as fiercely as the external ones. Everyone had them, she was sure, but she could never bring herself to ask. It was not something you talked about.

"Have you heard what they're calling me?"

Roy had given up on his paperwork for the umpteenth time, and Riza could feel his eyes on her as she continued her own work.

"Yes sir. The Hero of Ishval; it's very touching."

"It's a farce. The only difference between a hero and a murderer like Kimblee is that I only killed who _they_ wanted dead."

"Maybe so, sir. But you did do some good."

"If you say so." He paused, and then looked at her sharply. "By the way, weren't you wounded, near the end of the war? How are you now?"

Riza raised her eyes to his. He met her gaze and nodded slightly, so subtly that she almost thought it was a trick of the light. She looked back down at her desk and smiled.

"I was, sir, but I've healed. All that's left is scars."

"Good, that's good. I'm glad to hear it."


	7. AU - Fullmetal Gunslinger

On a fine day, it was easy to see the desert town of Liore from the top of the sand dunes surrounding it. On a despicably hot summer day, it was easier to see mirages of the town and believe yourself much closer than you actually were. Such was the trouble of one Roy Mustang.

He was a slender boy of fifteen with messy black hair, an eyepatch, white gloves, and a pale blue collared shirt that lacked a tie and top button. He was also sprawled out on the desert sand at the feet of a mechanical giant.

The giant was six feet tall or more, and was coated in bronze, except for its left arm, which was actually a gun. The gun arm was black from the elbow down, and ended in a barrel that most closely resembled a hunting rifle. The giant wore a cloak, perhaps once white, draped across the left half of its body to hide the weapon. The rest of the giant's body looked almost like armor, but it lacked the obvious joints armor had to allow its human occupants to disassemble it. The helmet – for it had once indeed been a helmet – that served as the giant's head was fancifully carved to resemble a hunting bird with a cruel beak and proud feathered crest. The eye sockets glowed red, which generally discouraged most questions about the unusual sight.

"Roy, get up," the giant said, and its voice was that of a girl, no more than fifteen.

"I'm so tired," Roy complained, rolling onto his face.

"I can't pick you up," Riza said, putting her one hand on her hip. "I'll sink again if I do."

"Please?" Roy begged, rolling onto his back again and reaching up toward her. "Do it for your oldest friend?"

"No."

Roy heaved a great sigh and his arms collapsed into the soft sand. Riza prodded him with her foot.

"Yeowch!" He writhed away from her, clutching his injured side. "You're hot!"

"I'm a tin can!" Riza yelled, finally fed up. "The sooner we get out of the sun, the cooler I'll get! And the only shade we're gonna find-" she flung her gun toward the town "-is that way!"

Roy sobbed theatrically, but got to his feet. He resumed the long trudge he had abandoned a few minutes earlier, and Riza resumed it with him.

"It's not fair, you know," he complained. "You don't get tired. You could walk all day."

"Yes, I could," Riza said pointedly, "if I didn't have your flesh and bones dragging me down."

"That's a low blow, Riza."

"I do what I can."

Eventually, they did make it to Liore. Roy heard the gurgling of a fountain and suddenly revived enough to sprint down the street, forcing Riza to chase after him. The pair screeched to a halt when they saw that the fountain was full of a blood red liquid. Roy stared at it in shock for a few seconds before recognizing the tang in the air as characteristic of wine and collapsed onto the fountain edge, groaning.

Riza picked him up by the collar of his shirt and turned him around, so that he faced the little café across the street. He sprinted to that, and immediately asked the man behind the counter for water.

"Sure thing son," the man said affably. "Anything for your friend there?"

Riza shook her head. "No thank you, I'm alright."

She had long since gotten used to the shock that her high voice coming out of the massive armor inspired in people, so she simply sat next to Roy without further comment.

"So, is that actually wine in that fountain?" Roy asked after gulping down his entire glass of water. "Pretty fancy for a desert town, isn't it?"

The mustachioed man laughed. "Sure is! Liore's blossomed since Father Cornello came around and started working his miracles – I guess you could say our success is the biggest miracle of all!"

"Miracles, huh," Roy said, leaving enough skepticism in his voice to prompt the man to go on.

"Don't take my word for it," the man said. "Here, you can listen to the prophet himself." He reached up to a switch near the ceiling and flicked it. A radio crackled above their heads, and suddenly the entire town was filled with airy music. Roy ducked out of the café's shade to look; and sure enough, there were radios and antennae on every building he could see.

A man's voice started talking over the music. His tone was soothing, very fatherly, and his words were a classic message to a chosen people. They grated on Roy's nerves, but Riza's hand over his own reminded him to keep his temper in check.

The old man was apparently not very religious, for despite the sermon being broadcast, he took the time to notice Riza's gun arm. The cloak she normally wore draped over the left side of her body had shifted in the process of sitting and standing again, but she was unaware of it.

"Hey lady!" he said. "What's going on with your arm?" Riza turned, startled, and the crest on her helmet caught the radio chord and sent the box crashing to the ground.

"Ahhh," she groaned, touching the crest more out of embarrassment than actual discomfort. "I'm sorry sir."

"You'd better be sorry! That radio wasn't cheap!"  
"Ain't you rich now?" Roy interrupted, scowling. "Let up old man, it's an easy enough fix."

"Easy fix? It's in a thousand pieces!" the man squawked.

"I doubt it's really a thousand," Riza said in an undertone as she leaned down to brush the radio parts together. Roy rolled his eyes and nodded.

"Now are you watching?" Roy said. He had knelt next to the wrecked machine, and was leaning back on his heels. With the attention of the café manager and several bystanders who also weren't terribly interested in their preacher man, Roy clapped his gloved hands together and laid them flat against the ground. A blue light sprung up around the radio, engulfing it, and when it faded, the radio was whole again and playing the broadcast just as clearly as ever.

The crowd gasped and Roy nodded indulgently as he rocked back onto his feet.

"Well I'll be!" the café man said. "You're working miracles just like Cornello!"

"Oh no," Riza said as she handed the radio back to its owner. "He's just an alchemist. I'm very sorry for the trouble I've caused you."

"Thanks," he said absently, and then turned back to Roy. "An alchemist, huh?"

"Yeah," Roy said smugly. "You might even have heard of me – I'm known as the Flame Alchemist."

"Flame Alchemist? What kind of a dumb name is that?"

"It's not dumb!" Roy screeched, but Riza had one arm around his waist and so his balled fists struck no one.

* * *

"It's just alchemy," Roy said under his breath.

"Looks like it," Riza whispered back.

"What are you two talking about?" Rose said, looking back at them.

"Just admiring Father Cornello's alchemy," Roy said, stepping off his suitcase. "He isn't using a transmutation circle for one, but he's also ignoring equivalent exchange, and that's something I've never seen before."

"It's not alchemy!" Rose said again. "I've told you, he's working miracles. He's going to bring my boyfriend back to life soon, and then you'll see."

"Rose…" Riza said, but she couldn't think of the rest of her words, and so her voice trailed off. Roy, meanwhile, had returned his attention to the so-called prophet, but his gaze was steely.

After the grandeur of the gathering, Rose took them through the thinning crowd to talk to Father Cornello themselves. He was gracious enough and offered them rooms for the night free of charge. They took the rooms without much discussion.

Later, Roy found Rose polishing candles in the church sanctuary.

"So, is that how you're going to bring your boyfriend back?" he drawled from where he sprawled across a pew. "Do enough of your priest's busy work, and you'll be able to bring the dead back to life?"

Rose whirled to face him. "You couldn't understand."

Roy cocked one eyebrow. "Wouldn't I?" He tilted his head back, closed his eyes, and began to recite a list of chemicals and measurements. Rose stared at him, confused and slightly frightened by his dead tone of voice. When he finished, he lifted his head to fix her with his one good eye.

"Those are the ingredients of the human body. They're actually not hard to get; a child could buy them all on his allowance if he cared to," he said. "But there's nothing that can recreate a soul that's passed on."

"Shut up!" Rose cried. "You don't know anything!"

She turned and fled out of a side door. Or, rather, she tried to flee, but she crashed into a heavy metal object instead.

"Are you alright? I'm sorry," Riza said, sitting up. She paused for a moment, and then felt for her head. Rose saw it first, laying a few feet away from where they had fallen.

"You're- you're-" she gasped, scrambling away.

Riza made a sound halfway between an exhale and a laugh. "Yeah, I know."

"You're hollow!" Rose shrieked.

"Not entirely," Roy said. He had stood, and was walking up the aisle. "There's a mechanism in her arm to fire the gun, and there's still the remnants of an engine inside her chest cavity."

"Thank you, Roy," Riza said tartly, adjusting the helmet back over her neck piece. "I love having the details of my innards explained to every passing stranger."

"I didn't want her to have the wrong impression," Roy said. He held up his hands and assumed an expression of virtuous suffering.

Riza snorted. She turned to Rose, who was shaking and holding on to the altar, and offered her hand. "We didn't mean to frighten you, Rose," she said gently. "It's just that Father Cornello is lying to you. It's impossible to bring the dead back to life."

"And how would you know?" Rose demanded.

"We tried," Roy said. He pulled off his right glove, revealing his automail hand. "I lost my entire arm and my left eye. Riza lost her entire human body."

Rose blanched, but Roy didn't stop talking.

"This is the price you pay, Rose, if you try to bring back the dead. It's not possible, but just for trying, just for daring to put yourself in God's shoes, you have to pay." He reached Riza's side, and they faced Rose together.

She was backing away from them, and then turned to flee, this time successfully. Roy sighed and shook his head, prompting Riza to look down at him.

"That wasn't very kind of you," she said neutrally.

"Kindness has nothing to do with it," Roy said. "I hate seeing people believing in lies."

As they turned to leave the sanctuary, they discovered Cornello's men blocking all the exits. Rose was standing with a man in the door she had recently exited.

"Thank you, Rose," the man said. "We will take these sinners to Father Cornello."

Roy looked at Riza and she nodded. They went quietly, but the men kept guns and spears pointed at them the entire trip. Their destination was somewhere in the innards of the church, completely underground if the stuffy air was any indication.

"Can't imagine a church luncheon down here," Roy muttered.

"Very funny," Riza replied tersely.

A huge door loomed in front of the group that took two men to open. The room beyond was a massive chamber with a packed dirt floor and a raised walkway on the far side; archways along the side walls led to dark tunnels. Riza eyed them uneasily. Cornello was standing on the far walkway, like an emperor surveying his arena.

"Good of you to join us, Flame Alchemist," he boomed. "But I'm afraid I can't spare you much time, so we're going to have to make this quick."

"I like that plan," Roy snapped. Even as he spoke, he whipped his leg around to knock one of Cornello's men off his feet. Riza took her fist to another's face, heedless of the spear he tried to thrust through a seam in her armor. Rose screamed and darted to the side, unaware that her companions had been readying for battle. To be fair, they were nowhere near ready to actually challenge the Flame Alchemist and Riza Hawkeye. The two youngsters left the men collapsed on the ground – some unconscious, others wisely pretending to be so.

Cornello humphed. "It seems you're as talented as rumor says," he growled. "Let's see how you like this!"

He slammed a lever behind him, and there was a great grinding sound, like a heavy slab being lifted. Two pinpricks of light, reflected from the room, glowed out of a dark archway. They became two eyes as a beast slunk forward.

"A chimera, huh," Roy said, raising his arm. Behind him, Riza had raised her gun and stepped away to give him space.

The chimera was very classical; a lion's head and chest, a goat's hind legs, and a serpent for a tail. It prowled around Roy slowly, scenting fresh blood. When it lunged, Rose whimpered and covered her eyes. But Roy slid under the beast and used its own weight to toss it away from him. It returned, angered, and Cornello gripped the railing he was standing behind.

But the chimera's lion teeth crashed against metal. Roy stood defiant with his right arm in the air, and the chimera chewed helplessly on his automail.

"Did you forget, Rose?" he smirked. "I'm not all human."

The chimera's snake-headed tail whipped around in Roy's blind spot, but Riza's gun rang out, and the head fell limply to the ground with a spray of blood behind it.

"Thanks," Roy nodded to her. He turned to Cornello. "Now, am I going to have to destroy this pitiful creature, or will you call it off?"

However, the pitiful creature pained by the loss of one head and terrified of the strange metal arm that it could not eat, released Roy and slunk across the floor to its cage.

"You dumb beast! Attack him!" Cornello raged. The chimera did not listen. He spat in disgust.

"Give it up, Cornello," Roy said. "Just let us have a look at that philosopher's stone you're wearing."

"And what will you do with it, state alchemist?" Cornello yelled. "Use it to take over this town yourself?"

"Please," Roy scoffed. "Give me some credit-"

"No, I know," Cornello sneered, almost laughing. "You're going to try again, aren't you? You didn't learn your lesson when you lost that arm of yours, and you're going to try again! So, who was it?"

"What?"

"Oh come now, did you think I wouldn't figure it out? Your arm and eye, that girl's entire body; you tried to bring someone back from the dead! Who was it? Who was so important that you would break the taboo of alchemy and actually try a human transmutation?" He asked with a sweep of his arms to indicate the scale of their crime.

"My teacher," Roy said through gritted teeth.

"That's all? Were you so desperate for power-"

"He was my father," Riza interrupted bitterly. She walked forward to stand next to Roy, her body braced for further combat.

Cornello's eyes widened. "But you're not an alchemist. Are you telling me you sacrificed this girl to try and bring your teacher back?"

"Shut up!" Roy yelled. "It's no concern of yours!"

"Perhaps not," Cornello said. "And I grow tired of hearing the excuses of sinners!"

He drew his hand over his cane, and the red stone on his ring glowed. A massive gun sprouted from the cane.

Roy clapped his hands and hit the floor before the gun had finished forming. Cornello fired some kind of missile that surely would have destroyed his opponents, but Roy had raised a solid wall from the ground. His creation held, and as the smoke cleared, Cornello grunted his displeasure.

"I see I can't go easy on you, just because you're children-"

Riza leaned out into the open and shot him, but it only grazed his upper arm. Cornello swore and dropped his gun, but in the next moment he was using his ring to heal the wound.

Riza took the reprieve to run out and snatch the cowering Rose, who was trembling behind the pile of defeated fanatics. She scooped the girl into her arms and sprinted toward the exit. Roy was hot on her trail, and Cornello's bullets were hot on his. Roy clapped his hands and fairly crashed into the wall, which became a door under his touch and opened to allow them to tumble through.

They sprinted through the building, barging through all opposition with a recklessness that would have gotten less talented people killed. Rose clung to Riza throughout it all, alternately closing her eyes in horror and staring in amazement.

* * *

After they escaped, Riza and Roy concocted a plan. Rose ended up on the roof with Riza, who had stolen the bell from the church's tower and was hooking it up to some wires running along the edge of the building.

"Did you- did you bring back your father?" Rose burst out. She had been silent since Riza carried her to safety, and the question had obviously been weighing on her.

"No," Riza said softly, eyes still on her work. "Bringing back the dead is impossible. Even our failed transmutation – even that cost me my body and Roy his eye. There is nothing you can give in equivalent exchange that is worth the cost of a human life."

"Then why are you looking for the philosopher's stone?" Rose asked.

"We want to get our bodies back," Riza said, heaving the bell onto her shoulder. "We've learned our lesson, but we can't just sit back and cry about all the bad stuff that's happened."

Rose looked like she was about to say more, but the microphone Riza had put inside the bell crackled to life and Roy's voice blared out over Liore.

"Come on old man, just give it up. Rose knows that you're faking your miracles; how long will the townspeople keep believing you when your most devout convert admits the truth?"

Riza could almost see his face, smug to the point of smarminess, and that insufferable smile he put on when he wanted to rub in a victory. She chuckled. Rose glanced at her curiously.

"Rose is but one girl!" Cornello said. "I have the entire town under my thumb! I've done too good a job; they're all brainwashed idiots who will not be so easily swayed."

"That's the other thing, what's even the point of all this?" Roy continued brashly. "Seems to me like a lot of trouble for one little town."

"You can't see the big picture, boy!" Cornello replied, and Riza imagined him gesturing wildly. "These stupid people believe anything I say; they would go to war for me! And imagine, an army unafraid of death. I'll use them to take over all of Amestris!"

"I don't think that'll work," Roy drawled. "You're not a very observant guy, are you?"

There was a long moment of silence, where Riza knew Roy was holding up the broadcast switch and Cornello was realizing the full extent of what he had just done.

"What- no! How long has that been on?"

"Oh, since the beginning," Roy laughed.

Riza set the bell down with a sigh. The frantic conversation continued, muffled now, but the important part had gotten out.

"So you see, Rose," she said gently, "Cornello really wasn't a prophet. He was just a con man. I'm sorry you had to find out this way, but he was lying to you."

Rose bit her lip. Her chin quivered and she was blinking rapidly, but before she could start crying, a loud explosion beneath them caught her attention.

"That's probably my cue," Riza said. "Can you find your way down by yourself?"

Rose nodded mutely, and Riza laid her hand on her shoulder before hurrying down to the ground.

As Riza arrived, Cornello was running away.

"What happened to his arm?" she asked. It had turned nasty shade of gray, and bits of what looked like guns were sticking out of it.

"A rebound," Roy groaned, his face in his hands. "He had a fake stone, and he used it up."

"Oh dear," Riza said, sitting next to Roy.

"After all we went through, it was a fake stone!" he cried. But his energy left as suddenly as it had come. He knocked his automail hand against her breastplate. "And here I thought I was gonna get your body back. Sorry Riza."

"There's nothing to be sorry about," she said. "At least the people of Liore won't be used as a fearless army to take over Amestris."

Roy laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I suppose."

* * *

They were preparing to leave when Rose came out of the demolished church. She was stumbling more than walking, but when she saw Roy her dazed eyes cleared.

"You!" she cried.

"Yeah?" Roy said, turning lazily to face her. His shirt had been destroyed by the day's hectic fighting, and his automail arm was gleaming in the setting sun.

"What do I do now? You took away Father Cornello, now what am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know," Roy said.

"You can't just walk away!" she cried. "You can't just- please, someone tell me what I'm supposed to do!" She fell to her knees.

"I can't tell you that," Roy said over the sound of her tears. He turned back around, away from her, and started walking. "You have to decide that for yourself. You still have a good pair of legs; get up and use them."

* * *

**Author's Note: **So the only reason this particular piece got written is because I wanted to have a story where Riza was a robot with a gun arm, so I thought "what if I switched Ed and Al's situation with Roy and Riza's?" Frankly I would never have written it at all if my roommate hadn't heard the idea and insisted I write it, haha. There's actually a LOT more of this - 7,500 words more to be precise - but it's disjointed and rough.

It's actually been a fun piece to write, because I had to go through and figure out what parts of each character's personalities are due to circumstance, upbringing, or just how they are. Is Ed's legendary forgetfulness about calling home every once in a while something he learned from his (absent) father, or is it because he's trying not to reveal how much danger he's actually in? Is Riza's taciturn personality because of her childhood, her military experience, a natural introversion, or some combination thereof? WHO KNOWS.

And that's all folks! Thanks for sticking with me. 8D


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